


Deleted Scene: Lafite Rothschild 1982 (Wine with Oliver)

by orphan_account



Series: Deleted Scenes [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Wine, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 03:22:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2566466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deleted (fictional) scene of Oliver finally giving Felicity the wine he promised her early in season 1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deleted Scene: Lafite Rothschild 1982 (Wine with Oliver)

“Have you seen my brother?” Thea’s voice startled Felicity as she was packing up her belongings to leave her small cubicle of an office. She didn’t even know why she had come in at all today—it’s not like she could focus on any work considering the whole man-made-earthquake that had gone off the day before, and them all almost, you know, dying, but she ached for normalcy and thought she might find it here. All she had done for the past three hours though was stare at her computer screen, her vision going hazy at her lack of concentration, and think back on all the terrors of the day before. She had seen more pain, destruction, and death than she had ever imagined possible, and the echoes of blazing fires and screams seared in her memory. She snapped back to reality as Thea gave her a questioning look.

“Sorry, I haven’t,” Felicity hadn’t seen Oliver all day. She had no idea where he was actually.

“I know that yesterday was…” Thea thought a moment and shuddered, “well there’s really no words to describe how yesterday was. But I bought Oliver’s gift awhile back and I really wanted to give it to him, but I can’t get ahold of him, and I thought you might know where to find him.”

“Me?” Felicity asked, surprised Thea had come to her.

“He’s mentioned you a few times,” Thea said with a dismissive wave of her hand, leaning against the doorframe. 

“Wait, a gift for what?” Felicity asked, confused.

“His birthday,” Thea watched Felicity a moment, as her expression went from confusion to disbelief, “You didn’t know his birthday was today?”

“No. He didn’t tell me,” Felicity wondered why he didn’t mention it, and felt an ache of sympathy go through her at the thought of him spending the day alone. This would be his sixth year in a row, Felicity realized. oh Oliver…

“Well, if you see him let him know I’m looking for him,” Thea gave a halfhearted smile before waltzing out of the room.

Felicity gathered her things quickly, and set out to find Oliver.

She looked everywhere she could think of. All the floors of Queen Consolidated, the foundry, the club, the mansion (earning an awkward encounter with their maid, Rita, who enveloped her in a warm hug when she explained that she wanted to see Oliver on his birthday), Big Belly Burger, the police station, and a quick walk by Laurel’s house proved to be of no help—Oliver was nowhere to be found. Felicity made her way back to her apartment tiredly, slipping out of her heels as she rounded the corner onto her street and walking a bit on her toes to avoid the rough concrete under her. She paused when she noticed a figure perched on the steps to her building, but felt a sigh of relief flood her as she recognized his broad shoulders and clenched jawline.

Oliver.

He sat hunched, his elbows resting on his knees, and head bowed down. He held a large bottle of wine, switching it between hands as he studied it absentmindedly. He still had a streak of oil on his upper cheek and a bit on the opposite eyelid, the only physical sign of what had happened the day before, but as Felicity studied his solemn face, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was more hurt than he let on.

He must have heard her approach, because he looked up suddenly, instantly meeting her eyes. as she closed the space between them. His solemn expression faded slightly, and a ghost of a smile graced his lips at her discarded heels and tousled hair. 

“I’ve been looking for you,” Felicity said, stopping in front of him. His smile grew a bit at that, and she felt her heart constrict. He held up the bottle of wine in his hands.

“I promised you a bottle of Lafite Rothschild 1982 a while back. I was hoping, even though my delivery is a bit delayed, you might share it with me?” Oliver looked up at her, and although he was trying to maintain a jovial tone, Felicity could see the pain in his eyes, and she knew why he had been hiding all day. Guilt seared through the sapphires and the weight of it shocked Felicity. She knew in that moment that everything that happened the day before from the betrayal of his mother to the death of his best friend, rested heavily on his shoulders. It pinned him down, and Felicity ached for him, knowing the kind of turmoil he could put himself through. 

Felicity though didn’t understand why he was sitting on her porch, waiting for her, but realized, in that moment, it didn’t matter. Not really. Even though Felicity knew that Malcolm Merlyn was the monster behind this all; that he had orchestrated the plan that had killed hundreds, a small part of Felicity couldn’t help but wonder if it was her fault as well for not being able to stop the machine. As she looked down at Oliver’s grief stricken face, she felt an understanding of his darkness fill her for the first time. Guilt over the Undertaking rose in her throat, and she longed to drown it out, at least for one night. Felicity grabbed the bottle of wine from Oliver with one hand, and stretched out her other to him, clasping his large palm with her own and tugging him towards the door.

“Let’s go drink, Birthday Boy.”

***

They were three-fourths of the way through the bottle when Oliver stood up suddenly, as if just realizing where he was.

“This is your apartment,” Oliver said, his face so thought consumed it made Felicity laugh. Or maybe that was the wine giggling.

“Yes,” she answered hesitantly, and watched him. Oliver walked around her living room slowly, looking down at the yoga mat on the floor next to the couch they had been sitting on. He avoided stepping on it, looking out the large bay window that shone with car lights and sparkling city windows. and as he continued to walk around Felicity felt anxious watching him: He was large in the small room, but instead of it being rightfully uncomfortable, she couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Somehow, he seemed comfortable in the strange space, and it made a warm feeling settle in her stomach. He paused a bit in front of her television, staring at the wall above. A smirk flitted across his face as he took in the Robin Hood poster, but he said nothing. He glanced off-handedly down the hallway that lead to her bedroom, but didn’t venture down it, much to Felicity’s relief. She didn’t know if she could handle him in her room. By her bed. Felicity felt her cheeks warm at the direction of her thoughts and hastily pushed them away.

He walked past her large bookcase, his fingers trailing softly over the volumes. He paused on one, plucking it from the stack and studying the worn cover of The Stranger.

“I read this in high school, I think,” Oliver placed it back on the shelf, “Or at least I was supposed to read it.” Felicity rested her chin on the back of her couch as she observed him read the titles of all the books she had collected over the years—from sappy romance novels that she should probably be embarrassed of, to computer analysis books. 

He turned back towards her, an arm still resting on the shelves and gave her a curious look.

“What?” Felicity asked, confused by his fascination in her small library.

“I can just imagine you, here,” Oliver said, “Before I brought you into all of this, I mean. Your life would’ve been simple.”

Oliver’s tone was sad as he looked almost longingly around the room.

“You could have come home from work and lived normally here. You wouldn’t have had to worry about things like the Undertaking, or criminals, or being in danger all the time. You could have just read The Stranger and gotten your fill of murder and psychos instead of having to live through it,” Oliver’s face was agonized as he stared at Felicity, and it tore at her heart.

“I never liked that book anyways,” Felicity said with a smile, tilting her head at him. He sighed, coming back towards her on the couch.

“Oliver, I chose to help you. It’s my choice. And you’ve kept me safe this far, right?” Felicity said with a large smile, and although it diminished Oliver’s frown it didn’t erase it.

“So, I choose the real murders and psychos, because I choose you,” it took Felicity a moment to realize what she had implied, and she felt a babble work its way up her throat.

“I mean I don’t choose you, choose you. I don’t mean that you and I are…Cause we’re not… I just…” Oliver smiled at her, amused, “I pick this life.”

The look Oliver gave her in that moment took her breath away—his blue eyes both lightened and darkened as they stared at her. Like he was both unbelieving of her decision, and awed that she would choose him. He looked away suddenly, studying his hands and clearing his throat with a cough.

“Let’s watch a movie,” Felicity blurted, “You can pick, since it’s your birthday, but just this time alright? And if you pick some action and testosterone filled sequence I will not be happy so just keep that in mind,” Felicity grabbed a stack of DVD’s, and popped in the one that Oliver picked, both of them settling into the couch.

If you asked her later what movie it was, she couldn’t have told you. She spent the whole time glancing at Oliver, whose frown seemed to have relaxed for the first time since she met him. He sank back into the couch next to her and she curled into his side a bit, surprised at how comfortable it all was. His arm rested on the couch behind her, just barely brushing her neck and she could feel its warmth throughout her body. She watched the ghost of a smile on his lips, mesmerized, until she drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

When she woke up, Oliver was gone. There was a scrap of paper next to her on the couch.

 

Thank you, Felicity, for a birthday worth remembering. No matter how little I deserved it.

-Oliver


End file.
